


home is wherever I can be me

by driedupwishes



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Canon Compliant, F/M, Fix-It, Moving On, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-28 23:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3873691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/driedupwishes/pseuds/driedupwishes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The post card stand was inconspicuous and innocent, full of brightly colored cards depicting the state’s name, kept organized by its white metal frame. She hooked her finger in it and spun it slowly, eying them without touching any of them. She stopped suddenly when one caught her eye, one with white cursive letters over the bayside picture that said, “wish you were here!”</p>
<p>There was a similar one, from a little country southwest of Fiji, which was sitting on the desk in her room back at headquarters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	home is wherever I can be me

Natasha stepped in the gift shop for her last errand as the sun hit its peak in the sky. She moved the sunglasses off her nose, using them to pin her hair back out of her face as she pushed them up. The little shop was cute and quaint, just how all the shops along the coast always were. She glanced around, checked the exits more out of habit than real paranoia, noting the woman behind the counter, with her messily tied up hair and small, easy smile.

“Hey,” the woman greeted, propping her elbows on the counter with ease. Natasha quirked a smile back and nodded, ducking her head as she stepped behind one of the waist high shelves scattered around the store. “Lovely weather we’re having isn’t it?”

“Gorgeous,” Natasha answered honestly. It was bright, sunshine uninhibited since there were no clouds in the sky, with a slight breeze coming in during the mornings and cooling everything off from the ocean nearby. It had been a good morning for errands, no matter how much Steve complained that they could be put off for other things for at least another week. Now however, with the sun at its peak and the day in full swing, it was a little hot out for her skinny jeans and black t-shirt, so the air conditioning in the shop was a relief.

The woman hummed softly, conversationally, grinning quietly to herself when Natasha glanced over. “Been like this all week,” the woman boasted, since it was obvious Natasha was from out of town. When Natasha didn’t reply past a hum of her own the woman laughed, shrugging her shoulders with good nature before mumbling, “if you need anything, ma’am, just ask.”

“Will do,” Natasha promised, turning to survey the store. There were a few things that caught her eye, one in particular a snapback baseball cap with “Captain America” written across it, the shield in the middle. Sam would get a kick out of it, even if Steve groaned at them, so she grabbed it with a grin, tucking it under her arm as she browsed the rest of the hats. There was a red Avengers logo cap as well, the same deep color as Wanda’s coat. She grabbed that one too, on a whim, glancing around the store for something for the others. She played with the idea of buying a stuffed lobster for Vision, mostly because it would bemuse him and make Sam laugh, but in the end she moved on, twisting to face the real reason for her trip into the shop.

The post card stand was inconspicuous and innocent, full of brightly colored cards depicting the state’s name, kept organized by its white metal frame. She hooked her finger in it and spun it slowly, eying them without touching any of them. She stopped suddenly when one caught her eye, one with white cursive letters over the bayside picture that said, “wish you were here!”

There was a similar one, from a little country southwest of Fiji, which was sitting on the desk in her room back at headquarters. That one too had, “wish you were here!” written on and though it had no name or message on the back (coward, a part of her hissed, one that was still hurt, still angry, even though it had been almost a year) she knew who it was from.

She also knew where he was, despite the country’s size. Even without S.H.I.E.L.D.’s former system and size, the Avengers’ had their own way of keeping track of potential problems.

(Steve called the tracking on him “keeping an eye on an old friend”, in a voice that said he didn’t pity her. She still made him go seventeen rounds in the training room with her, no breaks, until he flopped on his back and groaned out defeat. She’d been close to collapsing herself, standing too still on shaking legs, but he had just smiled up at her with a split lips and eyes that saw too much before dragging himself into an upright position and launching into a conversation about the next training mission plan like she hadn’t thrown him into the wall on his head.

Steve _fucking_ Rogers. Captain _goddamn_ America.

The hells she would follow him into, she had thought with a strange feeling in her chest as she pulled him to his feet.)

She picked up the “wish you were here!” one, flipping it over and staring at the back without really seeing it. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, staring at the back of the card, the weight of what that space could have meant pulling at her chest, but it was long enough that her knees felt stiff when she finally leant forward and put it back. She spun the metal frame again, catching it with her pinky and picking up a different card, one that just said “Maine” across it instead, no well wishes or missing you messages attached. The picture was similar, though this one also had a lobster on the side, and she curled her fingers over the edge more firmly as she turned toward the front. A glance at the clock told her that her ride should be back within minutes.

She dropped the two hats and the postcard on the table, sharing a smile with the woman as she went about ringing her up. The woman with the messy bun didn’t try to make any more small talk, which was relieving in a way, so Natasha just leant her elbows against the edge and waited on the total. When the woman gave it to her she tugged her wallet out of her back pocket and slid her card over, eying the cup next to the register that was full of pens.

“You mind if I borrow one of those,” Natasha asked, gesturing toward the pens. “I promise I’ll be quick.”

“Go ahead,” the woman said, waving her hand at the cup, letting Natasha lean forward and pick on her own. “I don’t mind, take your time.”

Natasha pulled the postcard close to the edge of the counter while the woman bagged up the two hats, politely paying more attention to the cash register than necessary while Natasha scrawled out her quick message. She wrote the address fast as well, not caring that the letters slanted as she did so, and when she looked up, capping the pen, the woman was pretending to mess with the receipt printer one handed. The other hand was extended Natasha’s way, with sheet of stamps stuck between her fingers.

“Oh,” Natasha said, not expecting that. She eyed it, not sure what to do with the woman’s thoughtfulness. Something about the smile she gave down to the receipt printer reminded her of Steve. “It’s actually going overseas…”

“Slap two on there then,” the woman said with a shrug, wiggling the sheet at her. “Works just fine, I promise.”

Natasha took the sheet gingerly, feeling the tightness in her chest that Clint would have teased her for had he been there. The stamps were flowers in bloom, pretty purple and green things, and she put two of them on carefully, side by side, before handing the sheet back. The woman was flat out grinning then, sliding her back her card and her receipt with a bounce in her step that had more stands falling loose of her messy up-do. She was pretty, Natasha noted, with sun darkened skin and bright eyes, hands smooth where their fingers brushed and freckles across her nose.

She was one of the hundreds of thousands of millions of people in the world they worked to keep safe. Natasha wondered if she had any idea who was in her shop. She didn’t think it would have changed the woman’s opinion of her if she did; she seemed like Steve, stubborn and personable to a fault.

“Here you go,” the woman said cheerfully, handing over the plastic bag with the two hats in it. Natasha took it carefully, dropping her arm down to her side, grabbing the postcard in her fingers as she did so. With her free hand she reached for her phone, glancing down at it to check the time.

Her ride was late.

“Husband late to meet you,” the woman half asked, half teased, grinning in a way that made her look young (and made Natasha feel old). “You can wait in here in the air conditioning if you like, I don’t mind. Mine is always late to get me too.”

“Thank you,” Natasha told her, leaning her hip against the counter as she twisted to keep an eye out of the shop windows. The counter was right up against the front wall, so they could both see the sidewalk and the road just past it clear as day. This close the sun was back on her skin, making her more thankful for the air conditioning than she thought possible. Not that she hadn’t been in worse heat, but it wasn’t particularly like she liked being in miserable deadly situations all the time, despite what Clint complained.

It didn’t occur to her what the woman had said until a few seconds later, since she had been scanning the road for suspicious characters and threats that could have kept her ride away. The thought made her want to laugh, the corner of her mouth twitching up in a smile as she shook her head.

“Unfortunately, though, I’m married to my work,” she said dryly, turning to watch the woman’s eyebrows climb on her forehead with amusement. “Boys are just a side affair,” she added teasingly. This time the woman’s laugh was loud and warm, like a grenade in a confined room. The sound was genuine and light, her eyes crinkling closed as she leant forward against the counter, and Natasha felt the same satisfaction she usually felt after training or a mission settle inside her at way the woman grinned up at her, teeth showing and eyes bright.

Before the woman could say something back there was an engine roar that Natasha knew only too well and a bike pulled up into the parking space directly in front of the store. Natasha hadn’t told him where she would be, trusting he’d find her, and he had. She wondered if he’d used his head or the GPS on his phone and the thought made her smile, turning to settle back against the counter as Steve killed the engine and swung off the bike with ease.

There was a noise from behind her, which wasn’t uncommon when women were faced with Captain America in the flesh for the first time, but it was hushed and small, one of the more polite sounds of surprise and awe that Natasha had heard. That made her smile too, until she was positively grinning by the time Steve stepped in the door, hair standing on end from the wind.

“Ready to go, _boss_ ,” he drawled, sarcastic and cutting as he could with his grin so crooked. He was referencing his early comment from that morning, when he’d called her bossy for demanding to drive his bike up the coast, but that wasn’t how it sounded to the woman behind her and Natasha knew it. It made her want to laugh and she did so, low and soft, twisting around to give the woman a wink as she pushed away from the counter.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Natasha said. The woman looked torn between shocked and delighted when their eyes met she blinked, mouth quirking up in a wicked grin as she started to giggle, hands flying up to cover her mouth. Natasha hummed, enjoying the way Steve glanced between the woman and Natasha, his expression clearly starting that he knew better to ask. He glanced around, eyes tracking the knick knacks easily.

“Should we bring home toys for the kids,” Steve asked, curling his fingers around his belt buckle, one of his habits. Nastaha slung the bag on her wrist toward him, letting it slip free over her hand and the postcard when he caught it.

“Got something for you and Wanda,” she said, shrugging. “Couldn’t find anything for the boys, though. Think Sam’ll like a lobster hat?”

Steve made a face and Natasha laughed, feeling more than seeing the look the woman gave her. “Only too much,” Steve muttered. He didn’t peek in the bag, even though she knew he was dying of curiosity. He would wait to see what she got him until they got back to headquarters and in a way Natasha preferred it. That way Sam could be the one to try to heckle Steve into wearing the damn thing.

“C’mon,” Steve said, shooting the woman a smile over Natasha’s shoulder as he turned back, reaching to open the door for her. “Let’s go home.”

“Home,” Natasha repeated in agreement. “But I’m driving.”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Steve mocked. She knew she could have taken the second motorcycle or forced Steve in the car that morning, but bossing Captain America around on his own motorcycle wasn’t something just anyone could do and it made her feel special in a foolish way, like the collection of children’s drawings she had up on her walls in her room.

She drove them both home after swinging by a mail box, Steve pressed comfortably against her back, arms around her waist as they wound the long winding highways and back roads back to the old military boot camp turned headquarters. The team was sprawled lazily in one of the rooms where they usually met for dinner, Wandra perched on a stool with a laptop balanced on her knees while Sam and Rhodey watched a sport’s team fail spectacularly and Vision watched them, bemused.

“Well, well, well,” Sam said, glancing up at them quickly before looking away again, hunched with his elbows on his knees and his shoulders tense. Rhodey’s eyes didn’t stray from the screen as he smiled, but he did wave. “Look what the cat dragged in. Bring us back any presents.”

“Not for you,” Natasha answered, taking the bag from Steve that he had carried in from the motorcycle’s compartment. “But you can have Steve’s if you can’t convince him to keep it.”

That got Sam’s attention. “Record,” he shouted at the television, turning to eye them from the counter as they came closer. Rhodey turned as well, rolling his eyes with the finesse of someone who had spent a lot of time with Tony as he did so.

“It is already recording,” Vision said, sort of smiling in the corner of his mouth. When he did that it was easy to see J.A.R.V.I.S.’s old programming in him, with that up tilt in his voice that he had always used when Tony was repeating himself.

Sam waved his hand at Vision, scoffing good naturedly. “Why would I want to convince Steve to keep his if I can have it,” he asked Natasha, leaning forward like he had done for the came, all his focus on her.

Natasha shot a look back at Steve, the corner of her mouth twitching up into a smirk, before reaching into the bag and tossing Sam Steve’s new hat. Sam caught it, having to lean up on his knees on the couch to do so, bumping into Rhodey, and the second he looked down at it his face split like he’d been giving Christmas morning in the middle of July. Rhodey glanced at the hat and immediately burst into laughter as well.

“Oh,” Sam said, looking up at Steve. Steve caught sight of what he was holding and began to shake his head, rocking back on his heels. “Oh _yes_.”

“Oh no,” Steve said, shaking his head. His eyes were bright with challenge and his lips twitched when he said, “that is not going on my head. The suit is bad enough.”

“Dude,” Rhodey snickered, looking up at Steve with a grin that Tony would’ve matched in tandem. “That’s going on your head, man.”

“Oh hell _yes_ it is,” Sam yelled. He swung up over the couch and tried to rush Steve, but Steve was already running, bolting back the way they had come with a call of, “try and catch me, you bastard,” over his shoulder.

“ _Vision_ ,” Sam hollered, leaning forward as he tried (futilely) to match Steve’s speed. Rhodey was right on his tail, not bothering to waste his breath hollering. “ _Help us catch him, man_!”

Vision blinked, glancing between the television and the retreating figures of his two teammates. “And I was quite beginning to enjoy this game,” he said. But Natasha watched with a grin as he rolled his eyes to the ceiling before fazing through the floor without a sound.

Wanda snorted quietly, rolling her own eyes in a fond move Natasha was more than familiar with.

“Boys will be boys,” Natasha muttered. Wanda glanced up at her, hair braided back out of her face in a way that highlighted her cheekbones.

“You mean boys will be ridiculous,” Wanda muttered back, accent thick. Sometimes she tried to even it out, like when she was talking to Steve, but she never tried to hide it with Natasha. Natasha liked that about her. “We need more sense on this team.”

“I agree,” Natasha said, because expanding the team was something she and Steve had been discussing since they’d built it. “Any suggestions?”

Wanda’s face did something complicated, her lips parting to say something before she bit them and looked down at the laptop. “Another boy,” she said instead of whatever she was intending, playing off Natasha’s earlier suggestions. “Brooklyn born, red and blue suit. It looks like he’s clever, but what reports I can find say he’s mouthy.”

Natasha knew who she was talking about; he’d been on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s radar before and after their collapse. Steve had decided to hold off contacting him at first, saying he was just a kid, but recently they’d begun talking about bringing him in anyway. Even if he was young and couldn’t offer them much now, he could at least use them as an ace up his sleeve when he got into too much trouble to stomach himself.

Natasha hummed, leaning over Wanda’s shoulder to glance at her screen. The information they had on the kid was pulled up and she nodded her approval, reaching up to tuck the hat on Wanda’s head with a gentle sort of care, the kind she used with Clint’s kids. Wanda looked startled and surprised, her features softening slightly as she reached up with one hand to brush her fingers across the Avengers’ logo, and Natasha bit back a smile, feeling contentment she had only known with Clint and his family bubble in her chest.

“Good choice,” she said, twisting to leave the other woman in peace. “Any thoughts on dinner? Or should you and I do something and leave the boys to beg for scraps?”

Wanda snorted again, fingers still trailing the brim of the hat. “Leave them,” she said, shifting the laptop across her knees with her other hand as she pretended to busy herself once more. Natasha hid her smirk as she turned, heading for the kitchen.

Sam and Rhodey bitched at dinner that Wanda had gotten an Avengers had and they hadn’t, since with Vision’s help they had managed to wrestle Steve down and get the baseball cap on him. Sam had taken selfies with Steve still being held down in the background by Rhodey and Vision. He traded off with Rhodey so that he could take selfies with Sam and Vision holding down Steve in the background and then they had sent them to everyone, Thor, Tony, and Clint included. Natasha had saved them to her phone and bought them both hats of their own the following week. Sam’s was an Atlanta Falcon’s hat and Rhodey’s was a shiny War Machine hat she found online.

She hadn’t expected them to wear the hats, but they did.

They both wore them for a week straight, even during training, boasting about them to everyone who got close enough to be tricked into listening. (It was hilarious how similar they could be while still being miles apart in personality. She wondered if it had something to do with being the backup to a pair of knuckle heads with too much history in so little time that you’d need a series of history books to cover it all. Probably.)

Natasha found that the sight so endearing she bought Vision a hat as well, a plain black one with a little white ghost on it, and when all five of them happened to line up outside one day, their hats all on, she snapped a picture for herself. She thought about sharing it with everyone else, but in the end she shared with no one.

This was home, she thought when she looked at those pictures in the restless hours where sleep wouldn’t claim her. The postcard got tucked into her desk and was thought of no more.

She had better things to do with her time; (unrequited) love was for children.

 

-

 

The sight of the postcard was both a surprise and not, all at once. He’d only been there two weeks, hardly long enough for anyone to send him anything, and he had been planning to leave in a few more days time. This was confirmation of the suspicions he had been harboring and the thought sent a chill down his spine. He cursed himself for sending the postcard out, knowing this was what would have followed. His heart still clenched at the thought, the way he couldn’t bring himself to write anything but the address of the Avengers’ Tower on it with a shaking hand.

He flipped it over after a few minutes of staring at the front, wondering vaguely what she had been doing in Maine. He hadn’t heard anything, but he had been cut off from most news for the past couple of weeks, so if something had gone down he wouldn’t have known at the time.

He wasn’t sure what he expected when he read the slanted, scrawling message on the bck, but it was what he deserved. In letters he recognized from the mission notes of the Hydra base raids Natasha had written, “I am exactly where I want, and need, to be.” Nothing more, but he could read between the lines.

He shouldn’t have been worried about her, since she was more than capable of taking down entire buildings of enemies with hardly a pause, but he was nonetheless. He could only hope the team had her back in her fights in a way he couldn’t allow himself to and that she was happy.

He traced the inked message on the back with his fingernail before folding up the postcard and tucking it in his pocket. He stood up, dusting off his pants as he did so, and went to pack the small bag he had.

He figured it was as good a time to move on as any, especially since the weather was nice out. Looked like it would be nice all week, if he understood the locals right. Strangely enough, he was looking forward to it.

**Author's Note:**

> I loathe what Whedon did to Natasha. it was fucking terrible. here's my attempt at a fix-it without changing literally everything that happened. ugh. still so mad even days later. why.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed tho!
> 
> (also idk if two american stamps work as overseas stamps that could be bullshit idk man i'm just a fic writer lmao)


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